


Milk and Honey

by scrapbullet



Series: Fever [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Asexual Character, Comfort, Ficlet, Gen, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, No Sex, Not Beta Read, Omega Credence Barebone, Omega Original Percival Graves, Post-Movie(s), Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 11:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9488798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapbullet/pseuds/scrapbullet
Summary: It’s thescentthat leads Credence to him.





	

It’s the _scent_ that leads Credence to him.

Rich and tantalising; it’s a kind of fevered sweetness that lingers in the air and draws him hither, curling around him like a heady fog of promise. Even the most alluring of perfumes can’t compare to it - notes of warming cedar and cinnamon infused with the tell-tale musk of child-bearing omega, that hooks itself under Credence’s skin and reminds him of _home_. Reminds him that, once upon a time, he’d had a mother who’d loved and held him, marking him as family.

It fills him with such yearning that even incorporeal - a being of ash and smoke, a puzzle of broken pieces unable to come together after the magic had torn him asunder - Credence knows. He _knows_ so viscerally that it physically pains him; an ache of want and desire that blooms inside his chest as he follows its call, unable to stop himself. 

Home. Love. Companionship. Perhaps, even, the touch of a fellow omega, and the very thought of it is enough to force Credence to coalesce into his own body, feet stumbling over each other in his haste to reach the source of that wonderful smell. 

(Ma had smacked him across the head when he’d presented. Modesty and Chastity - both born _null_ and so a void to Credence’s senses - had watched with fear in their eyes as Ma held out her hand, demanding the belt. Each lash had felt like fire on his skin, so sensitive due in part to the presence of pre-heat - a siren call to alpha’s that Ma had called _twisted_ and _deplorable_.

Nevermind that Credence had never felt that wanton lust for a mate. Nevermind that, even in the throes of his heat, his _hell_ , with his body seeping slickness whilst his belly cramped in agony, he’d never _wanted_ what his Ma had so viciously said he would. Instead he’d cried to be held and embraced, to be scented and nuzzled and pinned beneath a secure weight.

Nevermind all that, he’d thought, it’s still a curse.

Credence had wept for his soul that day, and he hasn’t stopped since.)

There. _Omega_. Each step brings him closer, his head clouded with the sympathetic desire to nest and protect. His feet lead him down one block and then another, weaving through the mass of scurrying people who spare him not a glance. Into an alley, next, and from there into a stairwell where the scent thickens like molasses, and a hazy mist descends over his vision. The stairs creak ominously as Credence ascends - the wood gone soft with rot and decay - slinking down the hall until he reaches a door, and he is _precisely_ where he needs to be.

Graves lies prone on the floor. His skin is colourless but for the dark circles beneath his eyes, eyes that blink unseeingly at Credence behind a shade of pain. Naked and smelling thickly of omega in heat Graves tips his head back to scent the air, chest heaving as if struggling to contain himself, and rumbles a low omegan purr. _Come to me_ , it seems to say, _I need. I need you._

Credence inhales, holds the taste of Graves’ desire on his palate, and exhales. Here, the peppery odour of desperation is strongest, mingled with salty tears. The musk of slick is faint - Graves writhes, and his thighs are red and tacky, the blushing redness at his backside appearing dry and sore - and the sight of a fellow omega in pain brings Credence’s nature to the fore. 

(In the back of mind Credence notes the way that this Graves differs from the other - how enthralling the sight, the sound. Where one smells so sweetly of omega, the other stank of alpha - a predatory soup of danger - and his thoughts swim with the confusion of two realities. Which is truth, and which is a lie? 

Does it even matter?)

“It’s alright, sir; I’m here. I can’t help you the way you want me to, but I’m here.”

Graves’ vibrating purr pitches lower as Credence steps closer, rising onto his knees with startling speed to press his nose to Credence’s belly. Graves mouths at worn cotton, seeking out where the material is thinnest, to kiss and bite and rub his cheek back-and-forth, frantic. This tightly strung Graves hungers for the presence of an alpha - someone to push him down and cover him, and seems to deflate when his hind-brain realises that no such succour awaits him.

With a soothing hum, Credence gently pushes Graves away. “I’m not an alpha,” he reiterates, voice clear and steady, massaging the taut muscle beneath his fellow omega’s shoulders. “But I _can_ help. You’re thirsty, aren’t you? Let me get you some water.”

__Graves whines, a high, throaty sound that appears out of place on a man of his stature. He shudders, leaning in to Credence’s touch. The comfort of another omega is enough for the mindless fog to begin to clear, it seems, and as Credence pulls away Graves allows it, quiescent._ _

__In the kitchen, Credence finds a smeared glass and fills it from the tap. The water is cloudy and tastes faintly of metal, but after a few rinses it runs clear._ _

__Graves hasn’t moved an inch. He looks tired, now, and consciously aware of his own nudity. Offering Credence a wan smile he takes the glass with trembling hands, sipping slowly, wincing at the tight click in his dry throat as he swallows. “I know you. Credence. I should’ve known it’d be you.” His lips twist in wry amusement, before biting off a curse at a particularly piercing cramp._ _

__“May I gentle you?” Credence asks. “I’ll not do anything more, I promise,” and Graves hesitates, cagey._ _

__He hesitates, yes, but not for long._ _

__“I prefer the company of omegas anyway,” Graves replies throatily. Licking his lips free of lingering moisture he tilts his head back, blatantly baring his throat in invitation._ _

__The lump in Credence’s throat dissipates. Yes, he can do this. He can bring a measure of comfort, soothe the burning fire that no doubt threatens to consume Graves whole._ _

__Their physical differences are all too apparent when Credence pins Graves to the dusty floorboards. Graves is broad and muscular, regardless of his secondary gender, so to create the illusion of safety Credence straddles Graves’ hips and braces himself on his hands. Their scents mingle; a gratifying miasma of contentment. “Comfortable?”_ _

__“Mmm.” That lovely omegan purr undulates in Graves’ chest, his head tipping up to nuzzle. “I can bear it,” he murmurs, and tucks his head into the crook of Credence’s neck, scenting him._ _

__The answering purr of pleasure in Credence’s chest warms them both._ _


End file.
